hours passed it seemed to him that neither man nor beast could
very long stand the strain endured by Bram and his wolves. At
times Bram rode on the sledge for short distances, but for the
most part he was running behind, or at the head of the pack. For
the pack there was no rest. Hour after hour it surged steadily
onward over the endless plain, and whenever the wolves sagged for
a moment in their traces Brain's whip snapped over their gray
backs and his voice rang out in fierce exhortation. So hard was
the frozen crust of the Barren that snowshoes were no longer
necessary, and half a dozen times Philip left the sledge and ran
with the wolf-man and his pack until he was winded. Twice he ran
shoulder to shoulder with Bram.

It was in the middle of the afternoon that his compass told him
they were no longer traveling north--but almost due west. Every
quarter of an hour after that he looked at his compass. And always
the course was west.

He was convinced that some unusual excitement was urging Bram on,
and he was equally certain this excitement had taken possession of
him from the moment he had found the food in his pack. Again and
again he heard the strange giant mumbling incoherently to himself,
but not once did Bram utter a word that he could understand.

The gray world about them was darkening when at last they stopped.

And now, strangely as before, Bram seemed for a few moments to
turn into a sane man.

He pointed to the bundle of fuel, and as casually as though he had